A Splash of Color in a Sea of Nothing
by sailboatsupernova
Summary: A disaster was averted, Outbound Flight landed, and Thrass is dead. The galaxy moves on. The universe is patient and the nothingness understands.


_"The stars were thinning out; the glare of the Milky Way was dimming into a pale ghost of the glory he had known—and, when he was ready, would know again. He was back, precisely where he wished to be, in the space that men called real."_

 _\- 2001: A Space Odyssey_

The first thing Thrass noticed when he opened his eyes was the expanse of burning dots that glittered in the black void above him. Millions of burning stars and distant planets scattered across the night before him, each seemingly vying for his undivided attention as they glinted. Nebulae stretched out over vast expanses of space, each seemingly infinite in color and shape. It looked nothing like the ceiling to his room or the reflective, beautiful crystalline surface of ice he was used to seeing when he woke up. But this. This was beautiful in its own right. A kaleidoscope of galactic proportions. Everything the universe could and would be, showcased here for him to see. It was supremely calming. Serene. As if he was home in a way he could never comprehend before.

The second thing he noticed was that despite his chest rising and falling in the action of breathing, he was not actually inhaling any air.

Something swelled up in his chest. He was very sure that is was panic.

It seemed so far away though. As distant as the stars that dangled light years above him. Everything seemed so totally complete. He couldn't find the room to truly panic, to allow the emotion to totally engulf him.

He knew what had occurred. He remembered. Thrawn and his humans, Outbound Flight, Lorana. All of it.

It too, seemed infinitely distant.

Something for later then. He just needed some time to adjust. This all seemed a bit more important anyway.

He blinked, a slow motion that seemed to signal to the rest of his body that he was ready to move. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, glancing up at the sky once he was upright. The universe had not gone anywhere in his movement, waiting for him to finish what he was doing with a patience that could last longer than time itself. Thrass was a little relieved that nothing had shifted as he moved. Another emotion rose up, so far from his thoughts that he almost didn't notice it. Worry. Worry that all of this would shatter if he moved the wrong way or blinked to fast. That if something was wrong he might never know about. Where he was or even who he was anymore. And if he even belonged here.

But it was distant. Far away from Thrass' immediate thoughts. He was fine here. Meant to be here, at this time, this moment. And if he wasn't then he would move on, figure it out for himself.

And the universe was nothing if not patient.

He blinked again, quicker this time, no longer worried about the inky space around him suddenly changing its mind. Moving his eyes away from the wonder above him, he looked to below.

The surface he rested on was just as stunning as the one above and seemed just as infinite as it stretched on in all directions in eternity. He would have called it black, but it was so much darker, as if he was looking into nothingness itself. The very surface of it was smooth and it reflected the bright glow of the galaxy back up towards itself in perfect replication. A compliment to the universe itself.

Thrass ran his hand over its surface, feeling its coolness seeping into his palm. It was soothing. As if it understood all that had occurred and agreed with the universe above. Thrass leaned over to let himself be reflected in the black nothingness, seeing himself as if he was apart of the universe reflected. The nothingness had looking at him and indeed had agreed as well. Thrass belonged, and showed him that it was so.

Leaning back away from the surface he refocused his attention on his hand. He studied it, how it looked against the blackness and the line were his skin ended and his reflection began. His own hand pressing back against him, offering comfort. The surface seemed solid. It held his weight easily enough. He pushed down with his hand anyway, watching as it slipped below the surface as easily as if it was water. He could still feel his hand despite no longer seeing it, the coolness of the abyss brushing against his hand like a nonexistent wind.

He pulled his hand out just as easily as he had pushed it in, eyes wide as he considered what he had just experienced. There was no way to explain it, not in any language he knew. Not in any words in any language. Thrass did not even bother wasting the time trying.

Instead he used that same hand to help his rise to his feet. As he pressed his hand back against the surface and used it to push himself to his feet it did not sink again. For that he was grateful. It wouldn't do if every time he attempted to apply pressure to the nothingness below he fell below it. How it made sense of it, if it did at all, Thrass wasn't sure of. But it understood nonetheless. It would not take advantage.

Being on his feet didn't seem to change much of anything for Thrass. There was nothing to be seen on any side no matter how much he looked. He frowned but it really didn't much bother him at the moment. Later, perhaps. After everything in his experience so far had been sorted out and mentally cataloged. But not before.

His gaze was pulled back once again towards the wondrous view of above. The universe stared back, still glittering as it waited.

With little more than a blink, Thrass looked back down, turned slightly towards the right and began walking.

Everything around him was silent but not oppressively so. It was more of a companionable silence if anything. Thrass didn't mind. He had always preferred a silent walk to a noisy one.

He wasn't sure how long he walked. He wasn't really aware of it. His legs never got tired as he put one foot meticulously in front of the other. No one was around to bother him. It was peaceful.

And around him the galaxy shifted.

It was subtle. Always subtle. Sometimes it was a star glimmering just a bit brighter, another dimming just barely enough to be noticeable. Once it was a moon almost close enough to touch, slowly sliding through space as it continued along on its invisible journey. Twice now, it was a shooting star, flashing across the expanse above for his eyes to follow as a trail of shimmering dust trailed along after it. Sometimes he looked above to the galaxies that shown with the soft ethereal light of something that was to give hope to all who could see, something that was infinity patient with all even if they were not. Other times he looked below to the nothingness that had seen more than anything could comprehend, understanding all that could be processed through reflection and wise beyond eternity. Through all of this, Thrass admired and considered.

But never thought about then.

No.

That would come later.

For now, this was fine. Just experiencing and adjusting. The universe was patient with him and the nothingness understood.


End file.
